Malifax

An ancient skinless, skeletal lich-smith who lives and forges in a workshop deep in the under-prison beneath the Grey Vale Cave. Only bone now, with no flesh and eyes glowing orange with the embers of his forge (the party reckons his hammer is his phylactery), he hammers endlessly at half-finished blades, armed and armoured in his own smithed gear, and styles himself Forge Lord — having "ascended" from the Forge Master who held the place before him. His maker's mark is found across the prison: on the cell doors, the locks and keys, and the great sump-lid drainage covers.

He is no original jailer. Some 400,000 years ago he was one of a band of raiders who sieged this place for "Old-World tech," stripped its ancient pipes of every valuable metal (replacing them with "garbage pipes, out of politeness") — and drank the immortality elixir they found. The elixir, it turned out, had an expiration date they were 400,000 years too late for: it kept him from dying but not from rotting, so he persists as living bone. He can still be killed, but won't die of age, "so long as you stay safe in the beauty of your own workshop." He later forged the prison's cells, locks and keys for the lizard-people (at the request of Morgor, the eight-greats-grandfather of Grank) and built the tool that puts prisoners to sleep for moving.

Vain, eccentric, and lonely — estranged from the other immortal raiders, a clique ("Malifax and the others") who "never hang out with me" — he is nonetheless a delighted friend and ally to anyone who arrives with a key and a fellow craftsman's respect. He keeps a caged wanderer, Keith, who broke in two months ago.

(Name rendered "Malifax," "Malifax," and "Malifax," and his title slides Forge Master → Forge Lord; spellings best-guess. He is almost certainly of, or made by, the same Elder race whose elixir he drank.)

Session 27 (debut)

Session 28

Session 29

Session 30

Session 31